


Short of Stable

by ElsieIvy



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2180436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElsieIvy/pseuds/ElsieIvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick is guilty, in pain, and Batman.  He'd never wanted any of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short of Stable

**Author's Note:**

> The usual disclaimers apply. Not my character etc.
> 
> I posted this a while ago on fanfiction.net and decided I'd put it up here as well.

Dick hoped he wasn’t whimpering. He was shaking all over and knew he looked like hell but he hoped he was at least keeping it together enough to not whimper. It would be one thing if he was Nightwing, but no, right now he was Batman. And Batman definitely did not whimper. 

“Robin, status report,” he hissed into him communicator, barely moving from his position slumped against the warehouse wall.

“Almost done. Just one left to go, then I’ll head back to your location.” Dick had hated himself for making Damian clear the warehouse alone, but he hadn’t had a choice and the kid was clearly up to it.

“Understood.” Dick closed his eyes for a second, trying to force his thoughts to refocus. Being rescued by a 10 year old was embarrassing but it beat being dead. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t saved Bruce’s ass more than a few times over the years.

When Dick opened his eyes again Damian was standing over him. 

“Sleeping on the job? Really…” Damian sounded like he was about to go off on one of his lectures but he stopped himself. “Can you stand?”

“Tore something in my knee. It’s not taking weight right now.” 

Damian grunted and grabbed Dick roughly by the shoulder, hauling him to his feet.

Dick gasped in pain and colors blotted out his vision. He knew Damian was supporting as much of his weight as he could take but that didn’t lessen the pain any.

“Do I need to call for backup?” Damian asked.

Dick cleared his throat, trying to force out his best Batman voice. “It’s fine. The Batmobile is just outside.”

Damian nodded and half dragged his older partner out of the building.

“Warehouses make me think of Jay,” Dick mumbled as they approached the Batmobile.

“You have a concussion,” was all Damian replied. 

“Yeah,” Dick agreed. He wondered if the dizziness from the head injury was saving him from fully feeling the leg injury. He’d felt something shatter and wasn’t anticipating a quick recovery.

Slowly, arduously, Damian helped Dick into the car and then helped him lift his leg in as well. 

“Thanks,” Dick gasped out as he set the autopilot on the car. 

“Are you going to vomit?” Damian asked.

“Probably. Rather not in the car though,” Dick replied, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. 

“Alfred would clean it up,” Damian pointed out.

Dick groaned and was deeply relieved when Damian fished an airsickness bag out of the glove compartment and handed it to him.

When Dick finished emptying his stomach, he finally turned to look at his partner. “Sorry.”

“I’ve seen worse,” Damian replied, unmoved. “You shouldn’t have been out there in the first place. Your knee has been off for weeks.”

Dick couldn’t disagree with that. “But if I don’t go out, then who does? Tim? Jason?”

“tt” Damian clicked his tongue derisively at the thought. “Well now we’re in the same position, Grayson. I heard your knee shatter. It’ll take months to heal and that’s if you’re lucky.”

Dick didn’t answer. There was nothing to say. No right answer or if there was one he wasn’t in the position to think of it. Dully he wished that he’d hit his head just a bit harder. Not thinking at all sounded preferable to the painful, blurry fog he was trying to operate in. 

The car finally parked itself and Alfred rushed to meet them, first aid kit in hand. Dick tried to remember if he’d called ahead to tell Alfred they’d need medical assistance. It must have been Damian.

Dick didn’t even try to help as Damian and Alfred pulled him from the car and laid him out on the nearby cot. 

“Really, Master Richard,” Alfred scolded, as removed the cowl. “You do need to take better care of yourself. We knew that knee was going to be a problem.”

Dick didn’t argue. He was just glad to have the cowl off. Glad to stop pretending to be Batman for a second.

Alfred sighed as he helped pull off the rest of the suit. “At least you’re in one piece. Let’s take a look at your leg, shall we?”

Dick bit his lip to keep from screaming as Alfred removed his pants, jostling his knee slightly.

“On second thought why don’t I start an IV with some pain medication, then we’ll take a proper look.”

“‘Kay,” Dick gasped, gratefully. 

As Alfred rifled through closets searching for supplies, Dick turned his fuzzy vision to Damian. He had changed quickly into jeans and an oversized hoodie and was standing awkwardly next to the cot. 

“You okay Little D?” 

Damian snorted. “You seem to have forgotten which of us successfully apprehended a large portion of Joker’s men and which of us was curled in a ball whining.”

Damn, so he had been whimpering. 

Alfred returned and expertly inserted the needle into his vein.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. No excuse for it.” Dick remembered how badly it always shook him up when Bruce was injured. He wondered if Damian felt the same way. He wasn’t sure if he hoped so or not. He didn’t want the kid hurting but at the same time it would be nice to know he cared. A reminder that his Robin wasn’t a sociopath was always reassuring.

“I’m not sure what you’re on about Grayson. If you’re going to talk to yourself that’s fine, but saying every third word of it outloud is ridiculous and bewildering.”

Dick hadn’t realized he’d been thinking outloud. He turned to get a better look at Damian but the world fuzzed and then melted to a pool of inky black. 

 

 

Dick could hear noises around him. Voices. Alfred lecturing. “Do go to bed. It does him no good having you standing here watching, dead on your feet.” Dick didn’t want to go to bed though, he needed to stay, to make sure Bruce was alright. He opened his mouth to say so but nothing came out be a low moan.

“Master Richard?” Alfred asked.

“Grayson?” 

Dick’s eyes fluttered open. Right, Alfred wasn’t talking to him. Bruce wasn’t the one injured. Bruce was...well he didn’t need to think about that at the moment. 

Damian was sitting next to him on a folding chair, a tray of untouched cookies on a table in front of him.

Alfred towered over him, a concerned look on his face. “I didn’t anticipate that dose having such a strong effect on you. Are you alright sir?”

Dick considered. He had a concussion, a possibly career ending knee injury, and he was drugged out of his mind. Then he noticed some pressure on his hand- Damian’s little fingers wrapped around his.  
“Yeah, I’m okay.”


End file.
